


Passing Through

by Lady Divine Coldflash (fhartz91)



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, ColdFlash Week 2016, Future Fic, M/M, Mutual Pining, Post-Break Up, Romance, Tumblr: coldflashweek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-11
Updated: 2016-12-11
Packaged: 2018-09-07 20:14:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8814721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fhartz91/pseuds/Lady%20Divine%20Coldflash
Summary: Six months after breaking up with Len, Barry is trying to move on and have a normal life. But that's a little difficult to do when said ex comes back in town and decides to stalk your every move.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the ColdFlash Week 2016 prompt Day 7 - Domestic Life, because what else screams 'domestic life' than having a big ole fight with the ex you're still in love with? xD Explores the head canon of Barry giving up being The Flash to have a life with Len as opposed to Len giving up being Captain Cold.

“And then he said, “Well, if you _wanted_ avocado, why didn’t you just say so? But, just so you know, I’ll have to charge you twenty-five cents extra!” And I said, “Duh! I said that to begin with!””

Laughter follows and doesn’t stop.

Barry laughs politely, and finishes first.

The story wasn’t all _that_ funny.

A sullen Barry perks up as they approach his house. Home sweet home, and it’s about time. It wasn’t a bad date. Far from it. Dinner, movie, and an impromptu trip to a carnival just outside of town. They rode the Ferris Wheel and the Merry-Go-Round, ate funnel cake and threw darts at balloons. It was pleasant. It was normal. It was picturesque and … safe. It’s not the kind of date Barry’s used to, everything going off without a hitch. He hasn’t been on one like this in a long time. Not since high school. It’s the kind of date he’d always pictured going on with the right guy.

But Michael Currden, the man sitting next to him, _isn’t_ that guy.

Michael parks by the curb and kills the engine.

 _Ugh_ , Barry thinks. That’s not a good sign. It tends to make things so much more complicated.

“I had a really nice time tonight,” Michael says.

“So did I,” Barry replies on rote, because that’s what he’s expected to say. When he and Carl, the optometrist, got stuck in a torrential downpour while playing outdoor mini-golf last week, Barry said he’d had a “nice time”. When Shelby’s (his date before that) Volvo broke down on the side of the highway (after she’d talked his ear off for forty-five minutes about how Volvos are the most reliable cars on the road) and they had to wait two hours for a tow, he’d said he’d had a “nice time”. And he _did_ have a nice time tonight. It’s just that somewhere towards the middle, he would have rather been alone … or with someone else. “Thank you so much for taking me out. I _really_ needed this.” Barry sighs as if relieved, as if a date with this man had been the cure for a long, difficult day at the CCPD. But it’s all for show.

And he’s a bad actor.

“I’m glad.” Whether Michael realizes that Barry is lying or not, he forages ahead anyway. He tries to take Barry’s arm, but Barry manages to slip out of reach in a blink. Michael looks at his own hand hanging in the air, an inch from where Barry’s arm had been. Unsure what to make of that, he puts his hand back on the steering wheel.

“I’m sorry,” Barry says, “but it’s getting late, and I need to get up early tomorrow.”

“Alright,” Michael concedes. Barry had been distant most of the night. Michael had a feeling things would end this way. “Will I be seeing you again?”

Barry looks down at his keys to keep from looking at Michael. He’s a nice guy - kind, compassionate, respectful, educated. He has a good paying job, and he seems to like Barry a lot.

But Michael isn’t _him_. He doesn’t even come close.

“You know what? Why don’t you give me a call tomorrow, and we’ll flesh something out. Okay?”

“Sure,” Michael says, put off at being so obviously rejected, but he doesn’t call Barry on it. “I’ll call you tomorrow, and we’ll _flesh something out_.”

“Great.” Barry plasters on the brightest, most genuine smile he can come up with.

Barry can’t see himself, but he’s sure that if he could, he’d look mighty ill.

Michael decides to give it one last go and leans in for a kiss. Barry offers him his cheek. He feels Michael huff against his skin.

No. Michael won’t be calling Barry tomorrow.

Just like Barry’s last three dates, two women and one man, all gone with the wind after date number one.

“Good-bye, Michael,” Barry says, letting himself out of the car and shutting the door.

At the beginning of the night, Michael had gotten the door for him, but he stays stuck to his seat as if glued there.

“Good-bye, Barry.” Michael doesn’t waste any time before turning on the ignition, pulling away from the curb, and driving off without looking over his shoulder for a final wave.

Barry watches the blue Hyundai drive down the block and around the corner. Then he turns and makes his way up his walk, climbs the three small steps to his porch, and stops in front of his door. He catches a sound coming from somewhere above him, like the pattering of birds on the roof, landing on the shingles. He sighs.

It’s not a heartbreak or a tragedy. Just par for the course at this point.

“Hey, Len,” Barry says. “You can come down off the roof now.”

Back facing his empty porch, Barry fits his key into the lock while he waits for the man to appear.

A second after summoning him, a head peeks over the edge of the roof.

“Hey, Red.”

“How many times have I told you to stop calling me _Red_?” Barry groans.

“About a hundred and eighty-three,” Len replies, dropping down from his perch.

Barry shakes his head, annoyed for a dozen reasons, but he’ll make an issue of this one. It’s an easy thing to be angry at, an easy thing to argue over. “Of course you’d know _exactly_ how many times I’ve asked, and _still_ keep doing it.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah – same shit, different day.” Len dismisses Barry’s irritation the way he has a hundred and eighty-three times before. “So, let me have it. Give me all the filthy details. How was this one? Did he pay? Did you pay? Did you kiss him good night? Do you like him better than me?”

The quick and easy answer would be _Yes. I like him better than you. Much better than you, as a matter of fact, because with him I know I’ll be able to make the car payments on time. I know I won’t be kidnapped in the middle of the night by someone who has a score to settle. I’ll never be considered an accessory to anything. I can have the comfortable, low-key life I’ve always dreamed of having, and maybe, if I’m lucky, I can finally forget about you._

But Barry can’t say any of that, because none of it’s true.

“He’s a nice guy.”

“That’s not an honest answer.”

“I don’t want to give you an honest answer.”

“Why not?”

“Because you don’t _deserve_ an honest answer!” Barry finally turns to face him. The moment he lays eyes on him, he wishes he hadn’t. Len is a disarming man, whether with a weapon or a smile. And he looks incredible no matter what he’s wearing – a suit and tie like he did on their first official date, or the uniform of black cargo pants, black t-shirt, and blue parka, the way he did every day after. The way he is now. “ _You_ ditched _me_ , remember?”

“Yeah,” Len says, Barry’s remark putting a dent in his cocky, infallible façade, “but, if it makes you feel any better, I had a good reason.”

“And what reason is that?” Barry asks, not sure that, whatever reason Len has, he wants to hear it.

“I didn’t want to eff up your life.”

“And what do you call this!? Huh?” Barry asks, on the verge of unloading months’ worth of venom and frustration. “Showing up unannounced? Judging my dates as if you have the right? Freezing the ones you don’t approve of!?”

“Come on, Red,” Len says with a smug snicker. “It was only the two.”

“Only!? For most people, that’s two too many!”

“One of them was trying to molest you! I was saving your life!”

“He was trying to _kiss_ me!”

“Same diff. You say potato, I say sexual assault.”

Barry rolls his eyes, throws up his hands. “Don’t go trying to make yourself sound noble. Keeping me celibate doesn’t prove that you care about me. You just don’t want me to be with anyone else. But how is that fair if I don’t get to be with you, either?”

“You _can_ be with me!”

“Only if it’s what _you_ want! If _you_ call the shots! And not for the long haul. Oh, no! Not for the important stuff. If I remember correctly, you said that you didn’t _do_ domestic. Buying a house, cooking dinner, raising kids, PTA meetings - it didn’t appeal to you. Remember?”

“I remember, Re---Barry.” Len catches himself since aggravating Barry isn’t going to get him anywhere. “But, I changed my mind.”

Barry’s eyes go wide with the insanity of that statement and he laughs out loud. “Right. You changed your mind. Captain Cold the unyielding changed his mind. Well, maybe you don’t _get_ to change your mind, did you ever think about that? Maybe you don’t get a second chance just because you want one!”

“Come on, Barry.” Len reaches out to touch him. If he can hold his hand, caress his skin, he can make him remember how _good_ things were before. But just like in the car with Michael, Barry slips away. “I understand why you’re angry. But I also know you miss me. And I know you still love me, cuz if you didn’t, you’d have called the cops by now …”

“Why are you really here?” Barry cuts in when he feels himself going soft. His hands settle on his elbows, pulling his arms together in a personal embrace that builds a barrier between him and his ex. “You never stay in a place longer than a few months. After you left, I didn’t hear from you again for six months. But lately, I can’t seem to get rid of you. So, what’s your angle? Are you just passing through? Stopped by long enough for a fuck and then on your way? Because I can’t do this anymore, Len. I can’t put my life on hold for you. I can’t sit around waiting for you to decide while I do all the changing, while my life becomes unrecognizable, and I …” Barry stops when his voice cracks. It always gets to this point. They talk in circles until Barry gets so frustrated he can barely put his thoughts into words, and then Len storms off, coming back only when _he_ sees fit. Well this time, instead of dreading that part, Barry’s going to help Len out. “Whatever, I just can’t. Okay.”

“Bare …”

“No, Len. I can’t.” Barry spins away so fast, all Len sees is a flash of red wrapped around a brown suede sports jacket and indigo blue jeans. A second later, Len is staring at a locked door and an empty porch.

“Barry …” Len puts his hand on the door. He feels Barry’s heat signature on the wood from the lightning that exists within him, that’s been there for decades … that he buried for Len’s sake. “When we started together, I thought that we were just a one-time thing. You were The Flash, and honestly, I thought fucking you would be the hottest thing ever.” Len hears a harrumph, followed by a single footstep. “Then we were a two week thing,” Len continues, trying to stop Barry before he races off, “then a three month thing. At first, I was trying to get my hands into your red uniform, and the next thing I knew, I was waking up next to you and a year had gone by. I’ve been with you longer than I’ve been with anyone, Barry. You gave up a lot to be with me. Central City has a new Flash, and you … you kind of faded away. And that was my fault. I know that. I should have made good on my promise. I should have returned the favor. I didn’t take it seriously, but then … I didn’t realize how important you were till I lost you.” Len hasn’t heard anymore footsteps, so he hopes Barry is listening. But will it make a difference if he is? “So maybe, if we get back together, we can switch things up? You can go back to being a hero, and I … I’ll keep the place warm for you until you return.”

There’s a pause, complete silence, then a heavy sigh.

“If that’s your way of asking if Mick can move in with us _if_ I take you back, the answer to that is no.”

Len smirks. Barry’s cracking wise. That’s a positive sign.

“No, it’s not,” Len says. “I’ve already talked it over with the gang. I didn’t give them any details, but they take their orders from Mick now, and I told them not to come looking for me. I want to try puttin’ that behind me. I just want to be with you. Being away from you for six months, it was hell.” Len waits, praying the door will open. But the longer it stays close, his hope starts to run dry. “I missed you, alright? Big time. You’ll never even believe how much.”

Len balls his fist, prepared to give the door a knock, but decides against it. Barry has made his choice. He’s not giving Len a second chance.

He’s not opening the door.

“I’m sorry, Barry,” Len says instead of good-bye. He didn’t say good-bye the first time he left because he didn’t want to burn any bridges, and he’s not saying good-bye now. “Just … remember that.” Len turns on his heel – not as impressively as Barry had, but still. He walks towards the stairs, takes only two steps really, when he hears the locks behind him snap and the squeaky hinge as the door swings open.

Len turns around.

Barry smiles. “I missed you, too.”

Then Barry grabs Len by the parka and yanks him inside.


End file.
